


Black-armoured Lion

by Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish



Series: Inktober 2020 SanCor fest [12]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Final Fantasy XV, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Westeros is a little kinder, tourney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27017290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish/pseuds/Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish
Summary: Inktober prompt #14: ArmourAu where Cor exists in Westeros already, and the world is a little less cruel. Sansa is at a Tourney in the Westerlands, and caught the eye of a different lion.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Cor Leonis
Series: Inktober 2020 SanCor fest [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948696
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	Black-armoured Lion

**Author's Note:**

> Sansa is 15 and not betrothed. Cor is 17.

The stands were filled with cheers, and Sansa felt exhilarated by the sheer cacophony of sound. She had been begging her parents for years to go south to see a tourney, and finally, at fifteen, they’ve come. She was with her mother, her dearest friend Jeyne, and younger brother, Bran, the boy wanting to be a knight in the south.

The tourney was being held in the Westerlands, at Goldentooth, and Sansa could not wait to get a glimpse at all the knights that would be fighting. She had only seen spars between Northern men in Winterfell, or her brothers practising, and though she did not wish to see true bloodshed, Sansa could not wait for it all to start.

Sitting at the very front of the stands, gripped tight in her hands was a blue ribbon, and she hoped that she would be able to give her favour to a knight, but by the time the archery competition started, Sansa doubted she would be able to. However, she did not allow that to damper her mood, listening as Bran rambled in excited whispers about the different knights and men fighting.

It was as she was trying to focus on his words, she then caught the sound of two voices speaking behind her. Sansa tried to not make it obvious that she was listening, curious on their words.

“Leonis is a presumptuous bastard.” One muttered.

The other snorted in derisive amusement. “What did he do this time?”

“Signed up for both the Melee and the Joust.” She could almost hear the rolling eyes of the first man.

Then the second one scoffed, “Melee I understand, boy is a demon with the blade, but Joust? I can’t see it.”

“I think it was a dare by his friends.”

He scoffed again, “Arrogant fool, House Leonis is going to lose their only son to pride.”

“I don’t know, that boy always seems to surprise people- OH! There he is.” The voice grew louder, and made her jump a little.

“Where?” The second one asked, eager to get a glimpse at whoever they are discussing.

“The one with the black and grey armour.”

And Sansa peered around for said armour, curious of the person they were talking about with disgruntled interest, before finally she found him. Unlike many of the armour in the south, this one did not gleam silver, bronze, or gold. Of a pitch black metal, the boy they were talking about only had a thin chest plate on and arm bracers. Underneath the armour was a grey, long-sleeved tunic and then the rest of his clothes were black. He cut a very dark figure in the midst of bright colours, and Sansa thought it was a very intimidating look. A squire was flittering around him, helping the boy to strap on the chest plate, and then he looked up from his gloves, allowing her to get a better look of his features.

Another thing she had noticed was that many southern lords, like the northern men, had long hair in some way. Instead, this boy had shortly cropped hair, a dark colour, and skin a dark shade. Like a tan, but more permanent. And then Sansa couldn’t help to silent intake of breath as he caught her eye in the stands, having been taking an observing glance around.

His face was stern, a frown in his brow, but he could not be but a few years older than her at the most, and she could not denial that he was a handsome man. He kept his gaze locked with her’s, so intently that she couldn’t help the small shy smile that graced her lips, until with a final jerk of his wrist, his bracer was finished being strapped on.

And then he looked away, but she managed to spot the quirk of his lips. Turning around to walk in the direction of the tents, she noticed with intrigue that his back armour piece had a front facing lion, roaring at the world.

Sansa was confused about that sigil, having thought that the Lannisters were the ones with the lion on their banners. She turned a confused expression to her mother and asked that. Instead of Catelyn Stark answering, it was one of the men behind her that chimed in.

He leant forward a little so that he could be heard over the loud audience, and informed her, “That’s the Leonis sigil. They come from the west of Westeros apparently, and in that land, their name meant lion.”

Still frowning, she asked curiously, “And the Lannisters were alright with that?”

The second one snorted, “Pfft, of course not. The Lord of House Lannister at the time-can’t remember the name-declared a dual against the Leonis that had arrived. The Leonis won. Since then, the Lannisters had to live with the fact that they weren’t the only ones with a lion as their sigil.” She thought that was very brave or very stupid of the person, but it allowed her to paint an image of what the boy must be like, to come from a family with such interesting history.

Jeyne then joined in, asking, “Do they have house words?”

First one nodded, “Yeah. ‘ _One mind. Any weapon’_.” He repeated, and Sansa thought they were strange words. The two men then turned back to one another, and started to discuss the words.

“Never really understood what that was meant to mean.”

“I think it’s meant to say that give a Leonis any weapon, and they will still win.”

“Ohh, I see. That makes sense.”

Sansa then faced front again, having noticed her mother was giving her disapproving looks. She tried to refocus back on the archery competition, but her mind was taken up by the Leonis boy. She wondered, twisting the ribbon in her hands, if it would be too presumptuous of her to give it to him. After archery, the Melee would begin, which would then carry on into the next day. On the third day was the Joust. Maybe, during the feasts, she would be able to give it then.

She could not say who won the archery competition, you would have to ask Bran, as her thoughts and eyes kept roaming around the field, looking for Leonis. She desperately wished to know his name, and was tempted to turn around to talk to the two men again, but she had seen how her mother continued to look at the two strangers with a suspicious eye. so Sansa decided against it.

Instead, Sansa took to calling him ‘ _Leonis boy’_ in her mind, though that did not feel as sufficient of a name. Finally though, the first part of the Melee had begun after the arena was cleared of the archery competition. It would start with all the hopeful fighters, battling it out until twenty were left standing. And then those twenty would battle against each other, one-on-one, until the victor was left standing. That would happen tomorrow.

With anticipation, she watched as the men began to seep into the arena, waiting for the fight to begin. Almost instantly Sansa found the Leonis boy, his black attire like a beacon to her eyes. He was one of the last to enter, prowling in and setting his eyes on his opponents. She noticed the way those who were closest to him inched away, and wondered if he was truly that terrifying of a fighter.

When the fight began, Sansa struggled with following him as he moved with deadly grace and was almost too quick for the eye. She was breathless with awe at how skilled he was and noticed that he did not majorly wound anyone. Killing was allowed, but it was looked down upon as unsportsmanlike, as this was a game, not a battle. And a part of her was relieved that the boy only cut to injure not kill.

At one point, there was a pause in his fighting, as the other combatants were more focused on one another than him, that it gave her time to notice his strange sword. Nothing like the broadswords, it was thinner with only one side sharp. She knows little to nothing when it comes to swords, but even she knows that it’s an unusual weapon for this land. ‘ _Most likely from his family’s original land’_.

In the lull, he seemed to have sensed her staring because once again they were caught up in an intense gaze. He cocked his head to the side, as if pondering why she was watching him, before her own eyes widened at the knight coming from behind him. She opened her mouth to scream or cry out to him, but it was unnecessary, as he was already dodging out of the way and did a strange spinning kick into the attacker’s chest.

Sansa couldn’t hold back her applause, listening as much audience cheered and clapped with whoever they were focusing on. That was the last time they caught each other’s eyes before he focused back on the fight. It went on for another half hour before the last twenty were standing. Leonis was one of them.

In the festivities of that evening, she and Jeyne had wandered around the feasting hall, twirling with one another and basking in the glorious affair. The hall was decorated quite lavishly, in the gold and reds of the ruling house of the Westerlands.

A few men had asked for her hand in dancing, but Sansa just gracefully declined, not wanting to leave her friend’s side. Her mother had emphasised on not going anywhere alone, as Catelyn Stark was with Bran in their chambers, the boy having grown tired from the long day.

Both girls took that to heart, and happily enjoyed one another’s company. Sansa knew that her parents were searching for a good match for her, so she enjoyed the freedom of watching the handsome young men with Jeyne and gossiping with one another, as much as she could.

Until she noticed the dark, familiar figure walking around the edge of the hall. He was bracketed on either end by two other boys, most likely his friends, and he looked so put-upon by being here. She nudged Jeyne in his direction, and her friend eagerly turned,

“He does not look happy.” She whispered, and Sansa smiled in amusement. “I think it’s the feast that he hates.” The dark haired girl nodded and they met one another’s eyes.

They burst into giggles, thinking it funny that the boy looked so long-suffering at socialising at a feast. She couldn’t personally relate but she felt a little bit of pity for his situation. Sansa then looked back at the boy to then still at his gaze once again. He was so unlike many of the southern men, with his plain and practical clothing. He would fit in well in the North and she used to hate how her home lacked style, but she had grown to enjoy the beauty of it’s wildness.. But his simplicity had caught her eye, and she very much liked how unbothered he was by fashion. She used to dream of a golden knight, but this by interested her more than a false man in a song.

Giving him a demur smile, she looked back to her friend, who was giving Sansa a sly grin.

“You want him to dance with you.” She had teased and Sansa shoved her elbow into the girl’s side, casing her to bark a laugh.

“ _Jeyne!_ ” Sansa hissed, furtively looking back at the boy, her heart leapt in a panic as he seemed to be striding their way, his friends following after. Trying to swallow back her panic, she drew on a greeting smile as the three boys stopped in front of her.

The girls gave a curtsey and the boys bowed. “Cor Leonis.” He introduced himself, and she internally cheered at finally knowing his name. He had a rough voice, but it lacked a threatening tone that many similar voices had. She thought it to be pleasing. Closer now, she could see his eyes had a slant to them, something she had never seen before, and they were a stone grey-blue colour. And then he gestured to his friends, snapping her out of her entranced gaze, “This is Podrick Payne, and Luka.”

Both of the other boys also had dark hair, with Luka being taller and the one with the most brown in his skin colouring. Podrick with the palest of the three. It was then Jeyne who spoke after they gave nods in greeting, introducing them to the boys. “This is Lady Sansa of House Stark,” The title had all boys looking at her curiously, and Sansa felt unsure and quickly took over for her friend. “And this is Jeyne Poole, daughter of my father’s Steward.”

Sansa felt unwilling to be standing on such formality as the boys didn’t and quickly directed the conversation. Looking up at Cor, she smiled and praised him. “You fought brilliantly. I am excited to see how well you will do tomorrow.” He smiled back and murmured a soft thank you. She could not pull her eyes away from him, and nor he.

“Will you two be joining in on the Tourney?” Jeyne then asked, looking at Luka and Podrick. The other boys shook their heads though.

Luka answered, “I’m not one for the pageantry of Tourney’s,” He then clapped Cor on the back, the boy rolling his eyes in fond amusement. “Hell neither is Cor.”

Inquisitive, Sansa asked, “Then why do you fight?”

He seemed to be studying her, and replied, that low voice of his sending small shivers up her spine. “Expected of a Leonis. We are known for being the best fighters in the Westerlands.”

Luka laughed and nudged Cor, sharing a grin with Podrick, who seemed more on the shy side. “Aw, he’s bashful. He really means in the Seven Kingdoms.” He spoke the the girls and Sansa rose and eyebrow, directed to Cor.

“Are you that good?”

A confident smirk flickered onto his lips as he locked eyes with her. “Better.” He murmured, and Sansa could feel her heart beating like a drum in her chest, stomach a flutter.

After that, the boys were then pulled away from the conversation, some Western lord wanting to speak with them. Cor gave a glance back before being submerged into the crowds again, and his eyes seemed to smile despite the frown permanent on his face. Sansa was sure that she was becoming absolutely charmed by his subdued smiles.

That night, Sansa and Jeyne could not stop the hushed, excited whispers as they shared a bed, talking about the boys, and more importantly, Cor.

“I was thinking he was going to ask you to dance.”

“He does not seem to be the one to dance, Jeyne. Maybe you could ask that Payne boy. He seemed interested.” And she waggled her eyebrows at the girl, watching her friend blush hard. They then shared a soft laugh, before falling to sleep.

The Melee the next day was in the early afternoon, and Sansa once again managed to find a place by the front of the stands, ribbon twisted in hand. Jeyne had teased her, but Sansa also spotted the green ribbon her friend had tucked into her dress, and nudged the girl in goo humour. Both were hopeful and eagerly watched as the battles began.

Cor was not one of the first to fight, but when he did, the stands exploded into cheers, watching as he stalked onto the battle field. Like before, his armour was dark and intimidating, and he wore no helm for protection for his head. He glanced around at the stands before spotting her, and paused for a short moment, like he was deliberating on something. And then seemed to have made up his mind, and strode over to where she sat.

The crowd grew hushed as he came over to where she was, looking up and silently offered his arm to her. Knowing what he was asking for, she gladly bent over the wall and tied the blue ribbon onto his wrist. She was glad her hands were not shaking with how nervous she was with how intently the crowd was watching them. But his presence was a steady comfort, and their gaze felt like lightning when they met, before he turned back around, breaking the connection, and prepared to fight.

The crowd seemed to have found their interaction exciting as Sansa kept feeling many of their gazes on her. With her dire wolf proudly embroidered onto her dress, it was obvious to many who she was, and her giving her favour to a small Western house was fuelling the gossip. She ignored the disapproving frown of her mother, and focused all her attention on Cor’s fights.

The blue ribbon was stark against his black armour, and she liked the way it was proudly showing off to the audience.

He won all his battles that day, and came out the victor.

She cheered loud, her hands stinging as she clapped them hard, Jeyne joining in with her. It was unbecoming for a lady of her station to show such enthusiasm, but Sansa would have as much fun as she could before marrying some dull lord that was picked for her. This may be the only time she would ever see Cor, but she would happily show her interest in him as much as possible, as she knew that it would be impossible for anything to happen between them ever again.

Cor was taking heaving breaths from his last battle, but still rose a fist in the air in victory and they caught each other’s gaze once more. Her cheeks ached from grinning hard at his victory.

That night’s feast, Jeyne and her immediately sought out Cor and his friends, and Luka had brought a girl to join their group, Sara. Apparently they were courting, and Sansa found the girl to be delightful, and the three females ended up falling into a long conversation on fashion and dress making. And then Podrick, who Sansa had observed seemed very nervous, had managed screw up his nerves and asked shyly for Jeyne to dance. The girl looked stunned, and in her silence, Podrick’s confidence seemed to falter.

At Sansa’s encouraging nod though, Jeyne blushed and accepted. After that, Sara was quick to drag Luka to the dance floor, leaving Sansa alone with Cor.

The silence was not an awkward one, but still, she couldn’t help but break it. “You don’t like dancing, do you?” She asked turning to him was a playful smile and he sighed, shaking his head.

“I know how,” He admitted, as is exasperated with the festivities around them. “But I don’t like being watched.”

Cocking her head to the said, she wondered rhetorically, knowing his answer instinctively. “But fighting is different?”

Smirking, he nodded, “Fighting is different.” And then, he held out a hand, a sly smile on his face, and she lit up like a fire in the night. Gladly accepting his hand, he brought her to the floor and they drew close to one another. Through her dress, she could feel the warmth of his body, and liked how his hand fit in hers. Just like his fighting, his dancing was equally elegant, though the tension in his shoulders showed he was uncomfortable.

Knowing he was only doing this to make her happy, she savoured their dance, trying to capture this moment in her memories forever. But to help him relax, not wanting this to make hime miserable, she began to ask some questions, drawing him into conversation.

“What made you decide to do the joust as well?”

Bluntly, he stated, “Luka had dared me to.”

Sansa couldn’t help the snort that left her, before widening her eyes in embarrassment. Cor just grinned back in amusement and elaborated, “Not the best reason I know. But last tourney, I was around thirteen, I complained about how moronic the men were for competing, finding it foolish. In my arrogance I said I could do better, so Luka dared me. I’ve had to add jousting to my training for the past four years and I’ve hated it.” Sounding so long-suffering, her smile would not fade during his words.

“Do you think you will win?” She prodded, and he shrugged nonchalantly.

“When it comes to my family, we are all inherently brilliant at weapons, and I’m not just saying that as a pride thing. Genuinely, we are best in a fight then anywhere else, I seriously believe that we were cursed by the gods.”

Blinking bewildered, she questioned, “Why a curse?”

His shoulders slumped minutely as they swayed to the song, “Because outside of a fight we are awful at socialising.”

Sansa threw her head back laughing at his frustrated expression, and giggled out, “Well, you are doing well right now.”

With a sheepish expression, he admitted, “I’ve had to have my friends coaching me on how to talk to people for years, but this entire interaction is an outlier to all my other ones. I do not know how I’m doing so well right now.”

Her eyes watched him heavily as she murmured, “I’m almost flattered.”

“You should be.” Cor whispered back, a mischievous glint in his grey-blue eyes.

Just as she predicted, they only danced once, but their group did come back together, and they talked far into the night, until Jeyne prodded her to get her to bed. With exhausted farewells, the girls retired to their guest chambers.

The final day of the Tourney dawned with clear skies and a warm breeze, and Sansa did not know what to wear. She had many colourful dresses bought with her, but she wanted to make a statement in her support for Cor, like her ribbon wasn’t enough of a statement. Her mother had come in as she chose a Stark grey dress, made with fine tulle and silks, perfect for the warm weather. It was the darkest colour she had, and even then it had blue and soft pink flowers embroidered on the waist.

A frown on her face as she observed her daughter getting dressed, her mother began, “I hope you know that this... _interaction_ with the Leonis boy can not be permanent.”

Pursing her lips, a tinge of annoyance rising in her, Sansa replied, “I know that mother. Can I not enjoy myself though, before I am to be married?” Her tone came out more snarky than she would’ve liked, not wanting to anger her mother. Unfortunately, her attitude had her mother glower back.

“I do not understand where this sudden dislike for marriage has come from, Sansa. You used to always talk about your future marriage, wanting it to be a dashing knight, or even the prince.” Catelyn bemoaned and Sansa’s ire rose even more.

Glaring, she sarcastically drawled, “Maybe I realised that I want to marry someone of my _own_ choosing, not some stranger.”

Tsking, her mother sniped derisively, “And you think the Leonis boy is the best choice?”

Whirling away from the mirror now, hair smooth from brushing, she hissed out, “Cor, is a kind boy, _my_ age as well. Which is something _you_ can’t say about the choices already presented to me by father. He is from a good family, and wanted to dance with me _despite_ disliking it.”

Sansa got her rage from her mother, a cold storm growing. It seemed that Catelyn had finally snapped, retorting back like she was some young child. “He is _beneath_ you! A simple hedge knight is all he will become at the most. Just because he danced with you doesn’t mean it is love!” And that is a fair assessment, but Sansa never said she was in love with him.

Still, Sansa rose to the argument and yelled back, “And just because _I’m_ forced to marry a man against my own choice _does not_ mean it will end up like you and father’s marriage! And even then it’s barely held together with your hatred for Jon and father’s _blatant_ favouritism for Arya. I _know_ that my duty is to marry whomever you so chose, you’ve certainly hammered that into my head since I was born, but that does not mean I can not _hope_ and dream! I know what I must do _despite_ my wishes. You should be having this conversation with _Arya_ instead, who is under the impression that father will allow her to become a knight. To allow her that fantasy will _destroy_ her when the time comes.”

She always felt jealous of how much allowance her parents had made for Arya, but now she sees how much of a problem it really was. It was going to destroy the trust Arya had for their father, and it was going to break her heart watching it. And by the shock on her mother’s face, it seemed she hadn’t expected Sansa to know that. Well she wasn’t oblivious to the failings of her family anymore, and hadn’t been for years.

Standing up tall, Sansa coldly informed her mother, “I do not dream of golden knights and princes’ in songs anymore, mother. I dream of a real love and true happiness. And sometimes, station is _not_ important when it comes to finding a _good_ man let alone a _great_ one.”

With that, Sansa swept out of the room, heading to the stadium, her hands shaking. Jeyne was waiting outside their chambers, having left when Catelyn entered, and by the look on her face, she heard every word of it. In someways, Sansa envied her friend on how there were no heavy pressures on whom she married, but Sansa knew that she herself was lucky to begin with anyways. Her parents are at least going to allow her _some_ opinion in who she married, instead of forcing her entirely.

That didn’t mean that she liked it though.

When the Joust began, Sansa had Jeyne and then Bran sitting between her and her mother. It was a tense situation until their friends from the night before came walking over. Sara sat herself on Sansa’s other side, with Luka and Podrick behind them. Podrick gave Jeyne a shy smile, to which the girl returned and Sansa couldn’t help how happy she felt for her friend. She hoped that they could have a happy life together if their minor flirtation grew stronger, but if they did, Sansa knew her friend would be leaving her side.

It was inevitable, but that didn’t stop Sansa from lacing her fingers through Jeyne’s seeking comfort. Her dearest friend squeezed back, and Sansa was then able to focus on the Joust.

This event felt more brutal than the Melee, watching as men fell off their horses, and hearing some of the injures they sustained from the hit of the lance. Cor didn’t fight until the third joust, and he easily knocked the opponent of his horse much to her relief and joy.

The argument from earlier slowly shook off her mind as she joined in with her new friends in clapping and cheering for Cor whenever he jousted. It went on for a few mor hours, the Jousts growing longer with each more skilled contestant winning. 

And then all the crowd seemed to still in anticipation as the last two contesters trotted onto the battlefield. Cor was one of them, and he looked so small in comparison to his opponent. Behind her, Luka cursed.

“The Mountain. I can’t believe I forgot he was competing.” And the worry had dread filling her stomach, looking back as Podrick nodded in agreement.

“If Cor messes up, he could get seriously injured.”

Leaning back, Jeyne asked nervously, eyes flitting back to the last two men preparing. “Who is he?”

A grim scowl covered Luka’s normally jovial features as he growled out, “The Mountain, or Gregor Clegane, is a beast of a man. Very dangerous and ruthless.”

With that serious tone, Sansa shivered in fear and as one they turned back to the fight as the two opponents got into position. Her hand tightened in Jeyne’s and the girl did not flinch at the subtle pain. Sansa was terrified for Cor, but hoped that his four years of training would come through.

The horses then leapt into action, cheers beginning to rise again, and the dirt flying up from their hooves as their riders collied in the middle sprayed across the field. Cor’s lance stuck and then broke off against The Mountain’s armour, and he had to dodge out of the way of being hit by his opponent’s weapon. They came to the other side, bot still on their steeds and were handed another lance.

Again and again they collided, and Sansa could see how much it was weighing on Cor, and spotted the anger rolling of the bigger man. He seemed upset that he hadn’t one yet, and Sansa feared what that rage would do when directed at Cor.

And then, after the fourth time of neither falling off, Cor seemed to take a deep breath at the starting point, and Sansa watched as a cold focus drifted over his eyes. There was a murmur from the boys behind her, a sound of satisfaction and she tuned back into the conversation.

“Finally seems to be focusing.” Luka murmured in approval, brown eyes like hawks, fixed on his friend.

Podrick leant forward some and replied, “He was most likely getting a good read on the other man. You know he likes to assess an opponent first.”

Humming in contemplation, Luka finished their thought process, “And in a Joust, it’s hard to because it all goes by so fast.”

Their words filled her with a nervous confidence, hoping that they were correct in their assessment. Inwardly she cheered him on, a mantra of ‘ _I believe in you. You can do it._ ’ And when Cor turned their way and caught her eyes, it was like he heard it.

Straightening his posture, Cor sent her a grin, before the signal was sounded. Like before, horses leapt into action, and Sansa held her breath as the clashed in the middle and the audience gasped in delight as Cor’s lance hooked into a strap in The Mountain’s armour and pushed him off his horse.

The crowd cheered in excitement and Sansa stood up with them, clapping with pride and relief. The joy did not last as The Mountain did not take his loss well and charged at Cor. This time the audience was gasping in shock as Cor dodged the blade and flipped off his horse. He landed firmly on the ground and his steed broke off in a run in fear, leaving the two men to stand off from one another.

Panting with rage, The Mountain charged with a bellow and Cor seemed to now be in his element, a feral grin creeping on his face. Through out all the Jousting, Sansa noticed that there was a discomfort in his posture that the Melee was missing, and swiftly, he dodged each attack.

The Lord who was hosting the Tourney seemed more interested in watching the fight than stopping it, which allowed Cor to roll away from an overhead strike made by The Mountain and slice at the back of the bigger man’s legs.

With a growl of pain, the large man fell to his knees, and Cor brought his sword around and tapped the blade to The Mountains neck, the threat pure and simple. And the big man stilled with the audience in a tense silence, held breaths and waiting to see what happened next. Sansa and Jeyne were gripping each other’s hands so hard she thought all the blood had disappeared from them.

No one heard what Cor said, but his mouth moved, speaking softly to the large man he had on his knees. It was a powerful image, to see such a terrifying man yielding to someone that many seemed to underestimate. The sword then pulled away, and The Mountain managed to stand and storm away, and the people could all breath a sigh of relief, and some in disappointment. Sansa heard the boys behind her grumble about not finishing the man off, and secretly Sansa agreed that if The Mountain was as horrible as many would suggest, would it not be better to kill him?

But either way, Cor’s squire brought back his horse so that he could swing up onto it and trot over to the Lord’s stand. The crowds were cheering as he moved around the arena before once again becoming hushed as he took the Crown of Love and Beauty, eagerly waiting to see who he would give it to.

Sansa felt hope leap into her throat, heart pounding as he turned his horse around and made his way to where they were all sitting. To where Sansa was sitting. Jeyne squeezed her hand once more in encouragement before letting go, and Sansa could not take her blue eyes off of Cor as he approached. His hair was mused from all the riding, a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, and it caused Sansa’s breath to catch at how dashing he looked, even with his armour covered in dirt.

Her eye were blown wide as he stopped his horse in front of her, and he quirked his eye brow in question. Licking her lips nervously, she stood and leaned over the wall, bracing her shaking hands on the wood, similar to when she gave her favour, and felt the subtle weight of the white roses sit upon her head.

Looking up she saw how close they were and courage overtook her logic and she leant into his space. Feather light, she gave his cheek a kiss, and pulled back, her entire face feeling hot. Cor’s face seemed to have smoothed out in subtle shock and Sansa spotted his ear’s had become red.

The crowds whistled and whooped around them but in this moment, her entire world had narrowed on to one point. _Cor_.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who saw the note on the series, I did not do prompt 12 and 13 because i felt a little uninspired by the ideas I came up with and i needed a little break from the writing grind. Also, this oneshot took way longer than I thought, but here you go, a very romantic meet-cute and a Sansa who is a little more aware of the realities of the world she lives in. But that wont stop them now with it. ;)


End file.
